An End to Sorrow
by Pollux Unbound
Summary: AU Starrk/Ichigo One-shot Yaoi. Kurosaki Ichigo is a very popular freshman at school. In fact, upperclassmen like Grimmjow, Szayel and Ulquiorra can't seem to leave him alone. Starrk, on the other hand, has no ambitions, is friendless and, above all, lonely beyond salvation. He only wonders if someone like Ichigo is his ticket to happiness. Starrk's POV StarrkIchi


**Disclaimer**: I do not own Bleach. This is based on the yaoi manga **Heart No Kakurega**, which I also do not own.

…

When people say life sucks, in all likelihood, they are alluding to complications which can find themselves untangled in the next morning. For instance, if those two words happen to come out from Grimmjow's mouth, it simply means his parents have refused to give him gas money for the week. Should Szayel be the one to propose it, most likely he has just missed purchasing the latest line of moisturizer from Shiseido. As for Ulquiorra, perhaps he has just scored 99 correct answers out of the 100 questions in the Physics exam. On the other hand, when I say my life sucks, I say it not entirely without reason. Maybe I mean to say I have no dreams of going to college nor of ever securing for myself a decent job at any point in the future. Maybe I am coming to realize that what awaits me is a black dead end, and nothing more.

Wait, why do I ever talk of the future? I don't have one.

…

Right now I'm in the detention room. I'm pretty sure I have nothing to reproach myself with this time around. The fact is, I can help snoring in my sleep as much as I can stay awake during our history class. With these two conditions prevailing all at once, Aizen-sensei ended up throwing me out of the room and straight into detention. At any rate, I'm sharing my luck with another person. His name is Kurosaki Ichigo. I know because Szayel talks about him nonstop as if not yapping about this 'super rookie of the soccer club' is the same as abstaining from breathing. Easy as that, I assume it is impossible for me and this dude to have anything in common.

"You're Starrk-sempai, right?"

"Yoh."

"I'm Kurosaki. You're pretty tall. I wonder if Grimmjow-sempai is taller than you."

"Same height."

"Why aren't you in the basketball team?"

Because the captain of the basketball team is Grimmjow and I can't stand him any more than he can help being an idiot. But, of course, I merely answer,

"My one and only talent is sleeping."

"Cool. Uhm, what are you in for?"

"Shoot a guess."

"Uhm, you were sleeping in class?"

"Bingo. You?"

"I was playing with a ball during homeroom and it bounced off the wrong place—right smack into Gin-sensei's face."

That explains why Professor Gin's upper lip was sporting what looked like a nasty cut this morning. Well, whatever caused it, that lousy excuse for a teacher deserved it. But, before I realize it, we are chatting as though my antisocial self has finally deserted me. It now becomes clear to me why Szayel, a senior like me, has appointed this freshman as his new number one crush. This kid has charms like James Dean and in no way is he hesitating about utilizing them.

…

With a sidelong glance, I figure Kurosaki Ichigo's lunch table is besieged by dudes and chicks from every batch. Little do they know that this arrangement is ending soon because here is Szayel, dumping his food tray in front of the kid. Well, Szayel has charms too and sometimes he exercises it with power. To prove just that, I can hear him from where I am,

"Shoo, miserable lackeys. Ichigo-chan can hardly breathe with so many lowlifes around him."

Groans are heard and yet the scowls on their faces are nonetheless an indication of nothing but defeat. Szayel is the chairman of the students' council. That settles the matter without anyone's wishes taken into consideration. This more or less means his orders are to be carried out with what diligence is commensurate with martial law. Soon, the number of people lunching with Kurosaki is decimated.

And then Grimmjow arrives.

"Szayel, must I dip you in Vagisil?" This question just about sums up Grimmjow's greeting, by the way.

"I don't have a vagina."

"Regardless; you need to stop being an irritating cunt. If you still don't get it, hands off Kurosaki."

"Oh, with logic like yours, I am made to wonder why cretins like you even bother to exist."

"Here you go again, questioning people's logic when you go about whoring yourself to a freshman, hypocrite."

"Believe me, Grimmjow, it's not your logic that I'm questioning; it's actually your existence."

Kurosaki has started to shift uncomfortably on his seat, while his two classmates, Renji and Chad, are reduced to two nervous shitheads. All the long while, Grimmjow and Szayel are doing nothing but to assert their rights over the kid with what foulness of language they are blessed with. I can maybe do something to save Kurosaki from his situation, except that I am such a degenerate I do not have the guts to do so. To complicate matters, Ulquiorra, also a senior and the vice chairman of the students' council, shows up. He intervenes,

"Grimmjow, Szayel, you need to stop this for the sake of yourselves—otherwise for our well-being. Or am I going to report you to the principal unless you disappear right this moment?"

Grimmjow sneers, turns to his heels and leaves. No sooner than he crosses the exit does Szayel rise to his feet to march around. With the two gone, the affair has slid down to rest at last, but we all know Grimmjow and Szayel shall sooner or later execute their vengeance, which probably means Ulquiorra's days are numbered. Perhaps our school is well on its way to witnessing its first ever public castration. Nevertheless, Ulquiorra sits down beside Kurosaki. In that action a subtle flirtation commences.

"How was your algebra exam earlier?"

"It went well, Ulquiorra-sempai. Thanks for tutoring me."

In conclusion, the three most formidable third-year students in school have their eyes set on this kid. Just great.

…

Walking home alone is routine to me. All around, my fellow students are dispersing to various locations, to maybe find their usual after-school amusement. The lonesomeness I feel during times like this gives me no other impression save the conviction that I am, in fact, human. A human ever so prone to depression. A ghost who will never discover what his goals in life are. With no determination, no passion for anything, no desire to pursue anything with fervor, I have to wonder why I even bother to keep myself alive in the first place…

"Starrk-sempai!"

It's him. Kurosaki running after me like this would've guaranteed my death from either Grimmjow's or Szayel's hands. This apprehension, however, vanishes as soon as he reaches me. Even his shortness of breath is beguiling.

"What's up?"

"I'm skipping soccer practice today. Anyway, can we walk to the train station together? Renji, Chad and Ishida are all attending training, while all the sempais are busy."

By 'sempais' he no doubt means Grimmjow, Ulquiorra and Szayel. If any of these three had a decent intention behind pestering this kid, I would be more than willing to hear it. By decent, I sure damn mean something that doesn't involve sucking a cock or divirginizing someone through the backdoor.

"Sure. What station do you take off, Kurosaki-kun?"

"Genbaku Station. You?"

The truth is, I take off at Tomigaoka Station, which is three terminals prior to his. This pretty much means I'm alighting before he does. Somehow, a sense of recklessness is gnawing at me. It builds up inside my head until I catch my mouth sputtering a straight-out lie,

"Ikona Station."

"Cool. I'm getting off before you do, then."

I now have more than enough reason to kick myself somewhere below the belt. Just why did I have to lie? But although there is little to suggest I have a clean purpose in pulling something so cheap, rest-assured I also am not planning to pull anything funny…or am I? What the heck. To move on, the subway is buzzing with passengers. It doesn't require the foresight of a genius to deduce we are going to be packed like sardines inside the train. Predictably, there'll only be standing room for further passengers. Sure enough, Kurosaki and I are now pressed side by side inside the train with hardly any room for compression. And upon reaching the next terminal, I am forced to turn to my side in order to give room for the incoming people. We are now face to face. The top of his head looms three or four inches below mine, allowing me to catch a whiff of his hair. I begin to inhale his scent, apart from his knowledge of course. This nearness, which presents itself as an opportunity, is rendering me powerless.

But we are now approaching Genbaku Station, where we will part. The inevitable announcement bound to issue from the speakers overhead strikes me as disappointing, as it never has before. And then the train pulls to an abrupt halt, causing him to lose his balance and to get thrust onto me. Sharp gasps issue from all around us. Luckily I have one of my hand grabbing the guard rail above, keeping the both of us on our feet. I fasten my other arm around his shoulder for a reason still vague to me. He looks up, and all I can give is a nod of reassurance. But my gesture seems to be sufficient to distract his attention from the misplaced affection I am demonstrating.

"_Sorry for the inconvenience. We are having a few technical issues. Please wait for further announcement." _The operator's voice is heard from the speakers.

Kurosaki presses his face against my shoulder—whether out of exhaustion or something else I cannot say. All I know is, I am desperately hoping for the damned technicians to never find out what the hell is the matter with the railway or the train itself. Provided that's even possible, we can perhaps stay like this forever. I find my voice,

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah."

Instead of pulling his head away from me, he buries it deeper against my chest, allowing his voice to come out muffled. I pull him closer. My heart is skipping beats. In fact, a hard-on is pretty much underway. With what strength of will I still have left, I busy my imagination with every repulsive sight I can remember just so to subside this impending boner. To my utter relief, the train jolts to restart. Before long, Kurosaki will be ready to bid me goodbye. The problem now is heading back to Ikona Station where my ass really belongs. That said, at the end of the day, I convince myself that prolonging my commute whenever Kurosaki is with me is damn well worth the trouble of spending extra money for an additional ticket.

From this day onward, he and I will often find ourselves walking with matching strides toward the train station, as if a pact has been made between us.

…

My weekends are most profusely spent on useless activities…or inactivity. Today, since I am no stranger to being alone, I choose an occupation which requires the company of no one; I head to the library. The public library in the part of our town boasts of expansive volumes, so I cannot even begin to challenge myself with exploring a fraction of it. I head straight to the fiction section, which is devoid of people. Apparently, the majority's definition of fun isn't the same as mine. At any rate, I take two paperbacks and look around for a vacant couch.

And here is a coincidence.

I catch sight of Kurosaki, who is alone and is bent on a textbook and what looks like schoolwork. Without warning I begin to feel something, which of course can only be tension. A voice inside me is urging my legs to scamper away but, whatever it is, it is no less than the feeling that's making me lose my presence of mind. And too late. He has spotted me and is waving a hand in the air. Due to that, I approach.

"Alone?" He starts.

"As always. You?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't Ulquiorra your tutor?"

"Not today."

"Oh. Need help?" I ask, strictly out of curiosity.

"Math. I'm having trouble multiplying with radicals…"

I take a seat beside him. In this proximity, it feels like a lot of things are changing, though none of them for the better. If I am plunging to something I have zero knowledge of, it's only natural of me to take caution. Indeed, I've always known attraction carries with it risks. For one thing, it's fatal. For another, it should be made illegal. But against my better judgments I draw closer to him, taking every step to blur whatever line is present between us. Just like that, it occurs to me that I am not such a dumbass after all, that whenever my mother tells me I have the brain but lack the drive, she is far from shitting me. It takes my desire to show-off to Kurosaki to realize that much. I guess I am really pathetic.

"Kurosaki-kun, in this case, you only have to remove the largest perfect cube factor…"

The paperbacks I earlier plucked out the shelf lay about untouched. Little by little my original purpose for being here is being obliterated. Only when the clock strikes seven in the evening do we rouse from lapse.

"Wow. You're a better tutor than Ulquiorra-sempai."

They say flattery can get you anywhere, but should 'anywhere' include…my heart? Worse still, he smiles at me. If I could avoid returning it, no doubt I would. But I can't, so I smile back with equal warmth.

"I guess it's time to go."

"Oh, I need to be home by now too. Let's walk to the train station together…again." He offers, this time with a slight trace of embarrassment.

I don't know how it happens, but I end up alighting from Genbaku Station and walking him home. Out of courtesy, perhaps, he has chosen not to deny me the pleasure. Needless to say this is just weird, I'm starting to feel like a total creep. Thank heavens his house comes into sight.

"Well, good night."

"Want to come in?"

His offer catches me off-guard. At this point, there's no telling what's going on inside my head. Chances are, what mind I have left is acquitting itself of any real thinking. And yet, somehow, not knowing a shit is exactly what leaves me feeling elated. Here now is the thrill of the unknown. Must I say yes? If I do, will that mark the end of my dilly-dallying?

"Maybe next time."

By the time I arrive home, there's only one question filling in my head; _My fantastic heart, who the fuck gave you the permission to fall in love?_

…

"You don't want to take the train together anymore?" He asks, crestfallen.

I do not answer immediately. This quiet repose pretty much constitutes what feels like a lifetime of nervousness. It's the first time silence turns out to be too much for me to handle with ease. To be sure, this speaks volumes, considering I've always loved total absence of sound. I answer soon enough, though,

"A good kid like you has no business hanging around a delinquent loser like me."

"You're not a loser; you're even good at math."

"That means you don't know me all that much."

"Why this?"

I meditate for my next answer, all this time making every allowance for my conscience to echo on inside me. If it were entirely up to me I'd say I simply wish to prevent myself from falling headlong in love. Besides, I have no serious wish of clashing with Grimmjow, Szayel or Ulquiorra. But I was never gifted with words, and falling for him isn't the best thing to happen now.

"You deserve better company, Kurosaki-kun. Let's leave it at that."

Leaving him standing right outside the school gate, I fancy his disappointment to be severe. It even looks like a part of his heart is on the verge of breaking. For my soul's sake, however, I fight the temptation to dash back to him. From here on out, he will behave differently in flesh and spirit, as if disheartened. Time and again we pass each other by down the hallways with hardly even recognition, like strangers who have deliberately chosen to have nothing to do with each other. But occasionally his sorrowful face will blast me with pangs of guilt. The one remaining choice for me is to accept I have been the one responsible for this nearly palpable sorrow.

…

Here goes nothing.

My change of heart, I know, shall end up either favorable or destructive. Many weeks have passed since I started dodging Kurosaki. But the burning question remains; must I pull this crap now? The answer is yes, because for whatever it's worth this has to be done, now or never. To cut to the chase, I am currently standing on the porch of Kurosaki residence, debating against an imaginary someone on whether to knock or to take my time. But I am saved from this grueling hesitation as soon as the front door flies open. His head turned away, Kurosaki himself is jostling out of the house and at the same time yelling at someone behind him. Without looking ahead, he crashes headlong to me, and so we tumble down the doorstep. I barely have the chance to procure a step backward. His weight, reinforced by his haste to storm out, has been enough to knock me off my feet. As a result, I am sitting flat on my ass while he kneels over me.

"Shit."

"Shit."

"Sempai?"

"Hi."

He gets on his feet, holding out a hand which I take to hoist myself up. This may sound stupid but I wish we have stayed longer in that uncompromising position.

"Have you come to see me?"

"Kinda. Are you heading out?"

"Only to buy soda…er, what can I do for you?"

What indeed. For some reason, my rehearsed sentences are hanging suspended in some passage in my throat. If they ever decide to finally come out, I'm pretty sure they will just wither down to utterly disappear, just as they are on the brink of doing. For what did I go here in the first place? I was never the talkative type, much less the confessing type. At long last, out of all the lost causes, words come out of me,

"Ichigo, I'm sorry for avoiding you all this time. It's just that I can't take it anymore."

"I can't take it anymore either."

"..." Speechless, I can only stare.

"It made me so sad. I even cried at night."

Dreadful silence. At this point, it seems my heart has dealt more beating than it can possibly take. Kurosaki Ichigo crying himself to sleep—it sounds impossible, like trying to ignore a tsunami. And this is all because of the mediocre, oversized douchebag that is me? Worse, the best clarification I can offer goes like,

"I live in Sannoh District, which means my stop is in Tomigaoka Station—not Ikona Station."

"How come you always take off at Ikona?"

"I'm in love with you. Head over heels."

Whenever people of my age confess their love to others, it's rarely worth their efforts. But for once in my godforsaken world, life chooses to tell me it doesn't always suck. His reaction will testify to that,

"Then why did you cut me off like that?" His eyes are starting to get moist.

"Cowardice is, like, my identical twin, after all. I was scared shitless. I didn't know what love was until I somewhat realized it was happening to me."

He subdues, taking me by the hand, pulling me inside his house. Before long, we are alone in his room. Feeling his warmth, gazing at him as though I haven't got enough eyes to stare at him, I deduce I will be spending the night beneath the sheets of his bed.

Slowly, I'm starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, happiness isn't too far gone. Perhaps I too, despite my mediocrity, deserve it.

END


End file.
